


The Five Children of Thranduil Oropherion and his Beloved Minaethiel

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [54]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousins, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father Figures, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 10:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: A story about Thranduil's five children in the DH AU. Thalion, his foster son. Thandrin, his heir.  The twins, Lithidhren and Eryntheliel, his second-heir and his only daughter. And Legolas, his baby, and his only surviving blood heir.





	The Five Children of Thranduil Oropherion and his Beloved Minaethiel

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: This story, and a story about Legolas that I am going to post next week, are intended to give more background on what Thranduil and Theli were up to during the Third Age. The week after that I’ll go back to posting chapters of Dribbling Mad, which will take place in the Fourth Age as Thranduil and Theli are figuring out that they are cousins. 
> 
> A/N 2: Several of the elven OCs who appear in this story, including Master Healer Nestorion, Thranduil’s cousin Fileg, his friends Linwe and Veassen, General Rochendil, and Chief Advisor Herdir belong to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and have been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood based stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. If you like their original characters, then that is much more to their credit than mine! Feel free to let them know, and to check out their stories. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
>  
> 
> Quote: 
> 
> From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
> 
> "Your children are not your children.  
> They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.  
> They come through you but not from you,  
> And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.  
> You may give them your love but not your thoughts,  
> For they have their own thoughts.  
> You may house their bodies but not their souls,  
> For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.  
> You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.  
> For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.  
> You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. "

Chapter 1: 

Prologue: late T.A. 3018 or early T.A. 3019, near the Hall of the King in the Northwest Mirkwood 

[General Rochendil POV] 

"How could Elrond do this to me? Risk Legolas, in such a careless manner!" The King of the Greenwood seethed, anger glittering in his eyes like sapphire flames. 

General Rochendil sighed, then reached out a hand to squeeze his heart-son’s shoulder. Finding a private moment for Thranduil to vent had not been easy. But the King had needed it, to express his deep feelings of betrayal. 

Thranduil's own dear cousin Elrond, the cousin their Aran had regarded more as a favorite young uncle than a mere cousin, had just sent their King's only living child on a quest which could only end in death. Thranduil suppressing his temper was a bad thing, as Rochendil had cause to know. And even now, duty called, and Thranduil answered. 

Despite his own inner rage and turmoil, Aran Thranduil shone as a ruler that day. Rochendil was proud of him. Putting aside his own fears, Thranduil spent hours overseeing his army's preparations to leave for the south of the Wood. 

His blue eyes flashing, his gaze penetrating and intent, Thranduil had spoken a quiet word to many a warrior and officer, recommendation or praise or suggestion for improvement. His elves listened, because Thranduil was their King. But also because he had been a soldier like them, once, and would still be, if his father Oropher had survived the last great war. 

The King of the Greenwood was accompanied by not only General Rochendil, but also by Elder Dirnaith, Captain Linwe, and Thranduil's cousin and guard Lord Fileg. The Aran's other guards maintained a loose perimeter. 

Amongst the royal guards was Cellillien Veasseniel, whom Thranduil now wished he'd sent with his son Legolas, to Imladris. Thranduil himself had a hard time saying no to his oath-brother Veassen's only daughter, and Legolas likewise, particularly since Cellillien had also been one of his former elfling-minders. Perhaps Cellillien could have talked Legolas out of his death-wish, the King had confided to Rochendil. 

Or perhaps, Thranduil had even suggested, he should have sent Ecthelion Erynion with Legolas, because Thranduil wanted his son to live more than he didn’t want Legolas to commit treason again. Not that joining Elrond’s vainglorious quest was torture, exactly. No one had planned for that contingency sufficiently well to prohibit it, after all. 

After they had been at the work of reviewing the army's status for over ten hours, General Rochendil leaned over to his King and suggested firmly but quietly, "Aran-nin, you need to rest. We can continue with this tomorrow." 

Thranduil's face set into a familiar stubborn expression, and Rochendil sighed. 

Of Thranduil’s guards, Linwe's expression was stoic, but Fileg shook his head, a fond, sad, exasperated smile in his eyes. 

General Rochendil gently tugged his King out of sight of the rest of his escort, before addressing Thranduil again, "Thranduil, my dear elfling," he said with a hint of paternal sternness in his tone, "We've done all that we can, today. It is time for you to rest." 

Thranduil's countenance remained stubborn and he snarled in protest, "Don't tell me to rest, Rochendil! My son is out there, alone!" The King's eyes were blue chips of ice, a sure sign of his temper. 

But Rochendil had known Thranduil, elfling and ellon, young soldier and King, long enough to know that while Thranduil's anger was real enough, it actually drew from worry and grief over the danger that the only surviving child of his union with Minaethiel had chosen to face. To give his beloved King, who was like a son to him, time to think through his anger, Rochendil pointed out softly, "Legolas is not alone, Thranduil." 

Rochendil didn't really expect that statement to be calming to Thranduil, but he hoped that it might at least inspire Thranduil to vent more of his anger. It was tremendously difficult to make Thranduil do anything he didn't want to do, and engaging in a shouting match with the King when he was like this wouldn't be productive for anyone. Better to let Thranduil vent his fury and fear now, in private, and maybe – hopefully - work himself around to realizing that there was nothing more to be done today. 

"Oh, do forgive me, 'Chendil." Thranduil retorted caustically, "I meant that Legolas is alone, but for a cast of characters who have the ripe makings for a hilarious comedy, not a successful quest." 

Rochendil winced. Thranduil, when he was in a temper, could be cuttingly, cynically accurate in his assessments. 

"Isildurchil is not a comic figure, son of my heart,” the General argued with gentle reason, “You yourself have said that Legolas' young human gwador Aragorn bears a marked resemblance to King Elendil, who was never a man to be taken lightly." 

Thranduil growled, then grudgingly conceded, "Aragorn is no fool. But the rest . . .," Thranduil shook his head despairingly, his eyes now a stormy ultramarine, as he complained, "A daft fool of an ithron, and an idiot of a human lord who doesn't even recognize his rightful King. And those are the BEST of them! Let's not forget a dwarf whose father bears a grudge against me! And four bumbling hobbits who have never seen a sword before, let alone carried one." 

Rochendil wasn't sure to be relieved or concerned that Thranduil's anger had given way to worry, but all things concerned, it was probably for the best. He waited patiently, willing to listen, wanting to help, but knowing that Thranduil needed to rest. All of them did, really. 

Which Thranduil had evidently not realized yet. 

"I want our army to be prepared to march south to support Legolas on a moment's notice," the King said, eyes and tone steady with resolve. 

"I know, Thranduil," Rochendil replied, his eyes soft with concern, "And I care about Legolas as if he was my own grandson. Being prepared to march south and take action against Dol Guldur is a fine thing, but we must let Legolas and his . . . companions . . . go about their quest. We don't have a choice. We don't, we can't, know where they are. Hopefully, neither can the Enemy. And we have our own role to play, here." 

Rochendil had already summoned Captain Thalion Aerandirion, Thranduil's beloved foster-son, back from his posting to the east. All Rochendil could do now was advise, and be there for his King, and for Thranduil the elf, who had won Rochendil's heart as an elfling, his pride as a young ellon, and his respect as Aran. But there was more to Thranduil than just the Aran. And no father should be asked to stand idly by while his son was at risk. 

[Thranduil POV] 

Thranduil growled, then turned to pace in agitation. He knew, on some level, that Rochendil was probably right. They'd made a good start towards readying the Greenwood’s army to maintain security at the North Hall while simultaneously preparing for a foray south. There was nothing more that they could do tonight. Pushing his elves to exhaustion and moving too fast would only cause mistakes. Mistakes they couldn't afford. Mistakes, which if Legolas came to need them in the future, Legolas couldn't afford. 

But still . . . Thranduil sighed, "'Chendil," he said, again using his elflinghood nickname for his General, who had once treated Thranduil much like a favored nephew, and trained him to the sword, "I . . . Thalion and I, we can't lose Legolas, too. We've already lost Mina, and Thandrin, Lithidhren, and Erynthelilel. I can't . . . I can't lose my baby son." 

Rochendil pulled his beloved King into his arms, murmuring soft words of comfort. There was little else that Rochendil could do . . . Legolas' fate was uncertain, and largely beyond their control. 

After a few moments, Thranduil got himself under control, "You have the right of it, Rochendil," the King conceded, "We've done all we can today. Let's go back to the Hall, have dinner, and make plans for tomorrow."

Thranduil led the way, now, an irresistible force once his mind was made up. 

The King's escort parted ways from Elder Curulas in the Great Hall. Thranduil's guards, General Rochendil, and Captain Linwe fell in behind Thranduil, accompanying him to his quarters. 

Thranduil looked to Fileg and Linwe, and inquired blandly, "How is Theli?"  
Those who knew Thranduil very well could likely read guilt, as well as affection and a bit of annoyance, in his blue eyes. 

"Other than the bruise from where you threw an ink pot at him, gwador-laes," Fileg replied levelly, "He's fine." 

Linwe's expression changed from disapproving to sardonic as he commented, "Blue, but fine." 

The ink pot had hit the top of Theli's head, some of the impact absorbed by his braids. Thranduil had actually been aiming for Theli's face, but the younger elf had wisely ducked, the golden goose-shaped ink pot bouncing off of his head before hitting the wall and showering Theli with ink. 

Sighing, Rochendil admitted, "I must confess that I, too, at first thought that Ecthelion was jesting about Lady Galadriel and Lord Orophin having told him that Lord Elrond sent our Prince to help a halfling destroy the ring. And that I, too, thought it a joke in . . . very poor taste." 

Linwe gave a slight nod, as if to say that he'd thought so, too. 

Fileg commented wistfully, "I rather wish that it had been just a joke." 

Thranduil sighed guiltily, "I'll apologize to Theli.” The days since the news arrived had been filled with frantic planning and activity, with little time for such niceties as apologies. 

Fileg gave Thranduil a sympathetic look, before offering, "Theli doesn't blame you. Even he wasn't sure that he had the message right, at first, but evidently Lady Galadriel repeated herself several times," Fileg grinned a bit, and chuckled. 

Thranduil, Rochendil, Linwe, and Thranduil's other guards all stared at Fileg. None of them saw anything funny about the situation. 

"Don't you see?" Fileg asked, still grinning a bit, "Theli is a blue elf now, from the ink pot. Not a green elf, but a blue elf." 

Thranduil snorted, but managed a small smile. Linwe rolled his eyes. Rochendil chuckled a bit, although most of Thranduil's younger guards simply appeared confused. 

Not Veassen's daughter. Cellillien just grinned. When they were past the last checkpoint and in the Aran's personal quarters, and the other guards had all been dismissed, Cellillien asked, "Uncle Fileg, did Theli really turn you green just so that people would stop suspecting Uncle-the-Aran Thranduil of being in on that prank, when he wasn't?" 

"No, no, Celli," Fileg corrected, still grinning, "Or rather, yes, but getting turned green was my own idea, because that way Celeborn's elves couldn't complain about it too much, if I took it like an ellon instead of a whining elfling." 

Thranduil stopped paying attention, as the friends who were as dear to him as family bickered amicably behind him. Instead, he reflected to himself that the end of this age, possibly the end of everything, was coming. That, or if Elrond's crazy gamble, the one he'd risked Thranduil's youngest son in, paid off, perhaps a new beginning was coming. Either way, it was the type of moment when an elf reflected upon his life, even if that elf was a King. Thranduil was a King, but he was a husband and a father, too. An elf who had loved his wife Minaethiel, and their five children. And who loved them still, although only two still walked Middle Earth. 

The five children of Thranduil Oropherion and his beloved Minaethiel were Thalion, who was their foster-son, their heart-son, but not their blood son. And then Thandrin, who had been their son and heir. Thandrin, with his dark hair like the raven's wing and his mischievously sparkling green eyes, always determined to be a good Prince. And then the golden-haired twins, Lithidhren and Eryntheliel. Lithidhren was their scholar, their thinker, although he had also been training to become a warrior, when he died. Eryntheliel the Wild was their only daughter, and she had held Thranduil's heart wrapped around her pale little finger, from the start. After the twins had been of age for a decade, along came Thranduil and Minaethiel's last child, their surprise. Their Legolas. 

Only Thalion and Legolas would live to see the end of the Third Age. They were Thranduil's beloved sons who lived, his consolation and comfort after the death of his wife and his older three heirs. But without Minaethiel and Thrandrin, Lithidhren, and Eryntheliel, there were times when they clashed, particularly Thalion and Legolas, and Legolas and Thranduil.

But that was getting ahead of the story. 

Chapter 2: 

Thalion the Foster-Son 

Thranduil had married Minaethiel almost immediately after the War of the Last Alliance ended. They'd had an understanding, of sorts, between them, 'ere he left for war. He remembered how beautiful she had been, standing amidst his mother's ladies, when Thranduil had left the Greenwood with his father's great army. Then, he had been proud to be one of the youngest lieutenants in Grenwood's army, one of the youngest of Oropher's soldiers to be permitted to go to war. He had burned with determination to face the Enemy, and protect their people. 

When Thranduil returned, it had been as a saddened, grieving veteran and new King. Minaethiel had helped him to remember that there was joy to be found in life, and her letters had helped him to stay sane during the war. 

Minaethiel also already had a son, by then. Well, not a son of her body, but a foster-son. Twenty year old Thalion, the child of a fallen soldier, Senior Officer Aerandir Camardhionchil, and of Minaethiel’s favorite painter, Gwilin. An elfling Minaethiel had taken in, because he didn't have anyone else, and a twenty year old elfling was roughly the equivalent of a seven year old human child. He had needed someone. 

At first, Thranduil didn't like Thalion, at all. And Thalion didn't like Thranduil, either.

Then time passed. Thranduil and Minaethiel got married. Even though Thranduil disliked sharing Minaethiel, he was aware that just being around Thalion made his wife happy. Particularly on the days when their new royal duties proved overwhelmingly odious, and Thranduil himself was exhausted. A year or so after the army's return, Thalion's grandmother and uncle from Lindon came to collect him. Thranduil quickly realized that Thalion's grandmother was quite possibly the most unpleasant elleth he'd ever met. Well, the most unpleasant elleth who wasn't a criminal or a traitor. Well, the most unpleasant elleth whom Thranduil couldn't PROVE was a criminal or a traitor. 

Thalion’s favorite healer and the young elfling together nick-named Thalion’s grandmother the "Sea Dragon," which Thranduil cheerfully began calling her, in private, to their fosterling's delight and his wife's mild frustration. But Minaethiel didn't like the elleth any better than Thranduil, Thalion or Theli did. And Minaethiel complained that the Sea Dragon’s pinches left Thalion’s arms bruised, and that Thalion's uncle didn't even know how to care for his own horses, and seemed even less sure of what to do with an elfling. In the end, Thranduil and Minaethiel kept Thalion, and sent his kin back to Lindon and Mithlond. 

And within two years, Thranduil told Thalion that he loved him like a son, and meant it sincerely. And Thranduil, when asked how many children he had, during the joyful years between Legolas' birth and the tragedy, always said, "five children," never failing to include Thalion. 

But the relationship between Thranduil and Thalion was always different than that between Thranduil and his other children, for Thranduil hadn't really been ready to be a father, when he became Thalion's foster-Adar, and there were times when he had made mistakes. More mistakes than Minaethiel had, but perhaps that was because Minaethiel had studied being a mother with the diligence and dedication to detail that Thranduil had studied soldiery, and then, more reluctantly, kingship. 

But there were certainly times when, if Thranduil was amused or sympathetic to Thalion's point-of-view, he wouldn't discipline his foster-elfling, even when he should have. Thranduil and Thalion, once they got over being competitors for Minaethiel's attention, had become friends first, before they became father and son. And there were some ways in which Thranduil listened to Thalion more as one might a friend than as one might a son. It could be said that Thalion grew up together with Thranduil and even Minaethiel, learning to be an ellon whilst they learned how to be a King and a Queen. 

Thalion was a good son to them, but he never forgot that he was Aerandir's son, and Gwilin's, as well as Thranduil's and Minaethiel's foster-son. Nor would any of them have wanted him to. Thalion's parents themselves had been fine elves, and he took pride in being like all of his parents, natural and foster.

Thalion's best friends in the Greenwood included the eldest of Thranduil's young Greenwood cousins born just before and during the beginning of the Third Age, including amongst them Thranduil’s next heir, Amardaer, the charming Lothgail, and the adventurous brothers Balrannor and Felador. 

Thalion was also a contemporary of Lord Orophin and Lord Rumil, the middle and youngest of Thranduil's cousin Celeborn's three adopted sons, and Thalion got along with them quite well. As time went on, Thalion also formed a close friendship with his cousin Gelmir, who was some seven decades Thalion's junior. Thalion had many friendly acquaintances amongst his fellow soldiers and young officers, but being the King's foster-son, and being by nature a reserved elfling who had grown up during the difficult years of the war, Thalion did not make many close friends outside of his foster-family. 

Thalion's name meant hero, but he was steady, reliable, rather than a knight errant like Elrond's elder sons. Thalion was like a sturdy oak, growing as Thranduil grew, and sheltering birds and creatures in his branches. By the time that Thranduil and Minaethiel were ready to actually plan to have elflings, Thalion was well over two thousand years old, and a trusted young officer in his foster-Adar's army.

Which brought Thranduil to recall his three lost elflings . . . his sons Thandrin and Lithidhren, and his only daughter Eryntheliel. 

Chapter 3: 

Thandrin the Heir 

Thranduil and Minaethiel's heir, Thandrin, was born a year and two weeks after the Watchful Peace begun. The Aran's friends teased him, saying that the gleam in Thranduil's eye on the way back from the assault on Dol Guldur had been Thandrin. Thranduil didn't mind, though. He was absolutely besotted with his new baby son. Minaethiel was, as well, and Thalion enjoyed being a big brother to the hilt. 

Thalion had always wanted siblings. And he knew how long his foster-parents had yearned to have the peace, and the time, to raise children of their own. Along with Dowager Queen Felith, Thalion made of himself a barrier between his royal parents, their new baby the Crown Prince, and any duty which could be handled by someone who wasn't Thranduil and Minaethiel. It was the first time that Thranduil seriously offered to make Thalion one of his Lord Advisors, and the first time that Thalion refused him. Thalion said that he was just being a good brother; not a minister of state. Even if it was a little hard to tell the difference, when your foster-parents ruled the Kingdom, and your new brother was the Crown Prince. 

Thranduil's first blood son was a sturdy babe, with a full head of wavy black hair and shamrock green eyes. According to Thranduil's honorary grandmother Ivoniel, Thandrin was the very image of Thranduil’s father Oropher as an elfling, but as he grew up it became clear that Thandrin had inherited Thranduil's own sense of mischief. Thranduil's mother Felith agreed. To the extent that Thranduil felt strongly that his mother sometimes derived excessive amusement from watching Thranduil deal with an elfling so like he himself had once been! But Thranduil preferred Felith's silver laughter to the haunted look he sometimes saw in her eyes, when Thandrin looked or acted particularly like Oropher, whose presence had been lost to both of them during the War. 

It is said that when you have children of your own you forgive your own parents all of their mistakes. That was true enough. Sometimes Thranduil still missed Oropher desperately, even though it had been 2,000 years. And Thranduil indeed came to forgive Oropher everything . . . except dying. Which even Thranduil admitted had not been his father's fault, really.

Thandrin was among the first of many, many elfings born during the centuries-long period of stability that came to be called the Watchful Peace. He grew up surrounded by love, the treasured jewel in the center of normally-cheerful family and state chaos. Thandrin's birth was warmly welcomed by his entire family and jubilantly celebrated by his Kingdom. Thranduil's former heirs presumptive, his cousins, were beloved and respected, but the elves of the Wood rejoiced to have an heir of their King's body. Despite the attempts of the royal family to have Thandrin grow up in as normal as possible an environment, his every doing was of interest to the Kingdom. That drove Thranduil crazy, but Thandrin didn't much mind. As an elfling, he thought that everyone was his friend. 

Thandrin was a happy, outgoing elfling, much more social and prone to making many friends his own age with ease than his father had been. Thandrin was the center of his parents' world to the extent that some of Thranduil's senior advisors (including his mother) had to come to him at several points and gently remind him that he was Aran, as well as Adar. And that Thandrin had doting grandparents and cousins. As well as honorary family- grandparents and uncles. And a loving and protective older brother in Thalion. 

Thalion took a decades-long leave from the army, so that he could be there while his foster-brother Thandrin was young. Thranduil and Minaethiel were grateful, for the truth was that ruling the Greenwood did not leave them with as much time as they wanted for their new baby son, despite help from their advisors, officers, and family. When his parents were busy, it was Thalion to whom Thandrin would run, to read him his favorite book again and again, or to show off his drawings, or for comfort after he'd scraped his knee, or to help him care for a gigantic dragonfly that he'd turned into a pet after rescuing it from the maw of one of his father's dogs. 

Thranduil and Thalion would sometimes joke that Thandrin had legions of friends. When he was older, Thandrin would quip back that it was a good thing, since he was Crown Prince and he might need to get legions to follow him, someday. But when he was an elfling, Thandrin just grinned, because he loved all of his friends. Thandrin's first friend near his own age was Sedilien, Thranduil’s cousin Fileg's daughter who was born just a year after the Crown Prince. Sedilien had her mother's dark hair and pretty smile, and she faithfully followed Thandrin through all of his elflinghood adventures, without ever balking. 

Even if Sedilien thought that they were going to get in trouble, or that Thandrin's ideas were dangerous, she always had his back. Most of the time, Thranduil thought that was a good thing. Although when fourteen year old Thandrin and thirteen year old Sedilien got themselves lost amongst the human guests at Elrond's daughter Andreth's wedding celebration in Imladris, Thranduil was less impressed. Still, in retrospect, Thranduil had to agree with his mother. Taking two elflings of that age on such a long journey just because he didn't want to go that long without seeing Thandrin, had quite possibly not been Thranduil's best idea ever. Although Thranduil had never confessed that to anyone but Minaethiel, and most especially not to Thandrin or Felith. 

Not all of Thandrin's close friends were cousins or members of the nobility. Two of his dearest companions, as an elfling and a young ellon, were Rhovameril, the daughter of Thranduil's gardener Nimbrethon, and Sadronuan, the son of a blacksmith. Thandruil went out of his way to make it so that Thandrin could become acquainted with elves who were not the children of high-ranking parents. Thranduil's gwedyr had saved his sanity so many times over, and none of them had been born to nobility or power. 

So it was very important to Thranduil, and to Minaethiel, that their children have a chance to befriend other elflings as their hearts dictated. In fact, one of Thranduil's happy memories from Thandrin's elflinghood was little ringbearer Thandrin, at Andreth's wedding, telling Elrond’s easily horrified castellan in Imladris that his two best friends, other than Sedilien, were the daughter of a gardener and the son of a blacksmith, and that Thandrin liked going to help the gardeners at their work because it was fun. Thrandruil did not think that he would ever forget the horrified look on that lady’s face, or the grin on Celebrian's, when Thranduil met her sparkling green eyes over Thandrin's dark head. 

Thandrin spent many happy hours in the woods around the North Hall and later the reclaimed capital of Emyn Duir, playing at being a soldier with Sadronuan and later also his younger cousin Baeraeriel, and building tree forts with his many other friends and cousins. Minaethiel began encouraging Thandrin to bring Rhovameril and Sadronuan with him, when the Crown Prince's attendance was required at official events. Sedilien was, as one of Thranduil's lesser heirs, also present at such events, but if Thandrin said to her: ‘Let's climb up onto that rafter, and pelt that elf we saw beating his horse with cherry pits,' Sedilien would say, ‘Fine.’ 

Rhovameril, on the other hand, was more likely to say, ‘Why? We might hit someone who doesn't beat their horse. My aim's not as good as yours, and I don't want you to go without me.' And Sadronuan, who had a lot of common sense and knew the King’s Horsemaster Rochirion, since his father sometimes made horse shoes for the King's stables, would ask, 'Why don't we just tell Master Rochirion about that elf beating his horse, and let him take care of it?' Which even Thandrin would have to agree, was a very good solution. 

Thalion loved his baby brother Thandrin dearly, but he was not blind to Thandrin's faults, and he was overprotective to a fault. Thalion had been, with rare exceptions, a quiet and well-behaved elfling. During the childhood of the cousin who the royal family roundly agreed had been the most like Thranduil as a child until Thandrin, Thalion had been old enough that he was most often in training or traveling with his friends. 

So how . . . simultaneously creative and heedless his baby foster-brother could be, and how much mischief Thandrin could get into without even half-trying, was a source of constant amazement to Thalion. It was Thalion, actually, who had taken a strong stand against Thandrin's going into military training when he came of age, on the grounds that Thandrin was not yet mature enough. Thalion had argued fiercely in favor of Thandrin's being required to wait a few decades. 

Thandrin had been upset by that, but he loved Thalion too much stay mad at him for very long. In the end, Thranduil and Minaethiel had decided to permit their heir to enter warrior's training upon his coming of age. So far as Thranduil could tell, Thandrin had been no less mature than any other fifty year old except for being more outgoing and creative than most. But Thranduil was possibly biased. 

Unfortunately for Thandrin, some of the young, powerful ellyn whom he met when he was first of age did not truly want to be his friends. They only wanted to become close to Thandrin to influence him, and to use his influence on their behalf. 

Despite having grown up his parents' son, Thandrin had been mostly sheltered from such false friends all of his young life. It was Thalion whom Thandrin went to, when his good friend and fellow trainee Sadronuan helped Thandrin to realize that he'd made a mistake. And Thalion helped Thandrin, and even spoke up for Thandrin, that he be forgiven his mistakes and permitted to continue with his military training. Thandrin did take to heart the lessons from that experience, and the responsibility he had as Crown Prince to make his own decisions about the elves and men he came to meet on their own merits. 

Thrandrin, in his brief few centuries, had lived up to his name of "crowned shield." One of the oldest of all of his playmates born during the Watchful Peace, he may have led them into trouble frequently, but he always took responsibility, and did his best to make sure his smaller friends were protected. For instance, when he and his friends made wings to see if they could fly out of the trees, Thandrin insisted that he, as the best climber, be the first to test them. Sandronuan had disagreed (both that Thandrin was the best climber and that Thandrin (who was the Prince) should go first). 

So Thandrin and Sadronuan jumped off of the high tree branch with their leather and wood and cloth wings at the same time, and then spent several days in the healer's clutches together. In fact, Thandrin got Sadronuan into trouble so frequently, that Thranduil felt obliged at one point to apologize to Sadronuan's blacksmith father, Cuimborn. Who had waved off the Aran's apology with a good-natured laugh, explaining that he and his brothers had been no worse in their day, and that he knew how these things went. 

By the time that Thandrin was posted to his first unit, he was determined to be a good, responsible crown Prince, and a good soldier. He had succeeded very well, though Thranduil wasn't sure how it was that Thandrin being responsible gave him as many frights as Thandrin being a cheerful, mischievous, imp. 

To Thranduil, Thandrin in his memory was bright green eyes and raven warrior braids, debating the best method for coordinating an alarm system throughout all the new villages of Greenwood with Thranduil's council. And that was Thandrin, frozen in time, because he died so young. 

Chapter 4:

Lithidhren and Eryntheliel, the Twins

Thandrin died too young, but he was still older than the twins, by just over a hundred years. Eryntheliel, Thanduil's only daughter, and her seven minutes older twin brother Lithidhren, both favored their father and their grandmother, with golden-blond hair and sapphire blue eyes. 

Having twins didn't intimidate Thranduil as much as it might have. Some of the elves of his court were concerned, remembering the elflinghood visits of Elrohir and Elladan Elrondion. But Thranduil and Minaethiel were not. Minaethiel was a hard elleth to intimidate, and Thranduil had no misgivings about twins. He was ready to be an Adar again, and besides, he had been good friends with Fileg Halmirion and his twin sister growing up. Additionally, Thranduil found Elrond's twin sons amusing, and actually sought out Elrohir's company sometimes, despite the vast gap in their ages, as the two elves shared a similar sense of humor. 

Thalion loved his new siblings the twins dearly, but he didn't get to know them quite as well as he knew Thandrin. By the time the twins were born, the warriors of Greenwood’s army were deeply involved in their victorious re-taking of the wood, and Thalion (and later Thandrin) were very much a part of that. Thalion spent all of his leave with his foster-parents and their expanding family, and he managed to be there for the twins' name day and most of their begetting days, growing up. But he wasn’t the constant presence in the twins’ lives that he had been able to be in Thandrin’s. 

Even Thandrin was busy, a young soldier in Linwe's unit for most of the twins' elflinghood. For most of that time, Linwe's patrol was kept close to the Northern Hall and then Emyn Duir, where the royal family moved their principal residence when the twins were a few decades old. So Thandrin at least was able to be a steady presence in Lithidhren's and Eryntheliel's lives, present most days for breakfast and dinner, and on seventh day for picnics and to supervise tree-climbing and swimming expeditions. Thalion was more of a rare treat, a young uncle rather than an older brother to the twins. When Thalion was on leave, he would help the twins with their studies, and take them on long camping trips. Thranduil and Minaethiel appreciated that, although they never really lacked for elfling minders, not with Felith, Minaetheil’s parents and siblings, and many cousins. 

To the everlasting relief of the Greenwood, Eryntheliel and Lithidhren, as elflings, were not quite so much of an adventure as Elrohir and Elladan Elrondion. Oh, they most certainly had their moments. Eryntheliel loved animals, and was prone to bring home even large, toothy predators, if they were hurt, in order to nurse them back to health. Lithidhren would help her, and so it was not unusual for Thranduil to arrive back to his family's apartments in the evening, and find that they had, say, a wolverine whose foot had been caught in a trap, peacefully napping on Minaethiel's favorite settee after having chewed Thranduil's second-best boots to shreds. 

That settee never recovered from that experience, but fortunately for Eryntheliel, Thranduil and Thandrin had more-or-less prepared Minaethiel for her daughter. Although Thandrin himself experienced a few moments of jealousy over his younger sister. After all, as Thandrin pointed out, he'd never been allowed to keep the wild animals he brought home once they were well, but Eryn got to keep her bobcat. Thranduil was not an ellon with a great deal of patience for sibling rivalry, and he got to the point where if he even heard the word "bobcat," he had a strong instinct to either yell at both of the children involved, or leave the room. 

But mostly, Thandrin got along quite well with his younger twin siblings. Thandrin and Eryntheliel, being closer in temperament, spent more time together than Thandrin and Lithidhren. Thandrin didn't understand why his younger brother preferred books and quiet, or the company of just a few like-minded friends, to being outdoors with a bow in hand, riding through the woods with a cheerful crowd. 

Lithidhren was the child that Thranduil himself had to struggle to understand. Just as with Lithidhren's namesakes, Thranduil had to go to his son. Lithidhren would never tell Thranduil if something was bothering him. If Thranduil hadn't helped to raise Thalion first, who was also somewhat reticent although not nearly to the extent of Lithidhren, Thranduil did not know how he would have managed with his then-youngest son. Eryntheliel herself didn't understand why her father found Lithidhren hard to understand; her twin and her father both made perfect sense to her. 

Eryntheliel and Lithidhren were very close, even though their personalities were quite different. Born in the same hour, Lithidhren would spend hours upon hours outside in the forest, because that was what Eryntheliel wanted to do. Eryntheliel, much like her father and older brothers, was not naturally inclined towards scholarship. But she spent so much time in the library and the archives because those were the places where Lithidhren wanted to be, that she was always at least caught up on her lessons, if not ahead of them. She also had an excellent tutor in her twin. 

Particularly as they grew older, the twins would spend time apart, too. Eryntheliel in the stables and the woods and the mews, and Lithidhren in the library and the archives. But each always knew where the other was, and how the other was feeling. When Thranduil lost his temper unfairly with Lithidhren, it was Eryntheliel who would most often intercede on her twin's behalf. 

The twins did have other friends. Thranduil's gwador Veassen had a daughter just a little older than Eryntheliel, Cellillien. Since Cellillien was likewise fond of both the out-of-doors, but also liked playing with dolls sometimes (something that Lithidhren would NOT do for his twin sister, once he got to the age of reason), Eryntheliel and Cellillien spent a lot of time together, and were much like sisters. They would often play with Cellillien's brothers, Doronamar the elder and Himdathor the younger. Lithidhren would not uncommonly join them. 

Thandrin used to tease that Lithidhren liked Cellillien so much because she meant that he never had to play dolls with Eryntheliel or braid her hair again, and that Lithidhren put up with Cellilien's brothers on sufferance. It was a little more than that, though, Thranduil thought. Veassen's children were easy-going and good-hearted, much like their father. A good match for the twins. Although Lithidhren, when left to his own devices, actually preferred the company of their tutor's son Isgalar or the gardener's more studious child, Thandrin's gwathel Rhovameril's brother Barant Nimbrethonion. 

Within the royal family itself, the twins were closest in age to Fileg and Calmarille's younger children, Brasseniel and Cenedru, and to Televegil, the younger brother of the fiery Baraeriel, whom Thandrin had unofficially taken on as his younger sister, before he had one of his own. Baraeriel had actually followed Thandrin into the military, becoming one of only a handful of ellith serving in Greenwood's army. 

Thranduil wouldn't have wanted something like that for HIS daughter, but it was a good fit for Baeraeriel, who as an elfling had been determined to keep up with the much older Thandrin and Sadronuan. Fileg's younger children Brasseniel and Cenedru were both cheerful and studious, and from an early age, enjoyed verbally sparring with Lithidhren, who was quite precocious. 

Baeraeriel’s brother Televegil was quieter (although almost any elfling would seem quiet and docile after Baraeriel, in Thranduil's opinion), but kind and willing to entertain the younger Eryntheliel so that she wouldn't be bored, while Lithidhren was keeping company with the older children. And at times, Lithidhren would come out of his shell, and organize games for all of the younger royal elflings to participate in. It was surprising to Thranduil that his least social child could become an event coordinator, but Lithidhren cared deeply about Eryntheliel's happiness and didn't want her to be left out of his more intellectual relationship with next-oldest cousins, hence turtle races, dog obstacle courses, fish athletics and kitten climbing competitions became common events, at royal garden parties. 

Lithidhren and Eryntheliel, while both quieter than Thandrin individually, were an effective barrage of love and chaos whenever they found themselves determined to win on some point or other. Thranduil had not intended to take them on a trade mission to Long Lake, but Eryntheliel had talked him into it because Lithidhren had made friends there via a letter exchange. And then there was the bobcat, about which the less said the better. And also a particularly vicious snapping turtle, although that at least came to live in the flooded cellars beneath the North Hall rather than in their sitting room. 

In a period of time which felt far shorter than fifty years, Thranduil and Minaethiel's twins came of age. The safety and prosperity of the Watchful Peace still held, so their coming-of-age party was a grand event indeed. Thranduil's cousins of Lothlorien and Greenwood were out in force. 

Memorably, during that celebration, Thandrin had invented a fictitious love triangle with his cousins Arwen and Orophin in order to spare himself from the attentions of a particularly persistent set of crown-seeking, marriage-mad young ladies. Also, Elrond's twins had taught Thranduil's twins and their siblings and friends how to build and fly hand gliders off of the heights of the castle on Emyn Duir. Thranduil would always remember the brightly colored silk of the gliders, like spring flower petals, floating from the sky garden of the castle down to the dark green of the forest below. 

Thranduil and Minaethiel had thought that the twins would be their last children. So, not long after Eryntheliel and Lithidhren came of age, Thranduil's mother sailed in the company of his uncle. Dowager Queen Felith had been torn between staying and leaving, but she had stayed for Thranduil and her grandchildren for a long time, and she missed her husband. Later, Thranduil would think that his twins had just been waiting for their grandmother Felith to leave, before embarking upon a mutual, coordinated campaign to drive Thranduil crazy. And that, after a relatively calm adolescence! He felt like they'd just been lulling him and Minaethiel into a false sense of security. 

Eryntheliel stayed out all night and day, and came home covered in dirt and twigs. She refused to tell her parents what she had been up to, and Thranduil was at his wit's end. At the same time, Lithidhren suddenly decided, after a lifetime of avoiding physical pursuits, that he wanted to join the army. Thranduil wanted to just lock them both up somewhere safe until they reached a more sensible age. Say, two thousand. 

Fortunately for her parents, their Eryn soon revealed her grand plan of starting a messenger bird service for Greenwood's military. Not messenger pigeons, they already had those. No, Thranduil and Minaethiel's only daughter had recruited all manner of birds who would not normally consider such service. Owls who could see in the night, with their soft, silent wings both great and small. Hawks so nimble they could dance through the lines of soldiers, no matter how chaotic the skirmish or pitched the battle. Eagles so mighty they could cross the great forest itself in a matter of days. It was an ambitious plan, and Eryntheliel would need much help and have her work cut out for her for decades, possibly centuries. But it was a source of pride more than worry. 

Not so much Lithidhren's wild hair to join the army, but Thranduil couldn't fault his son's reason for it. If anything happened to both Thranduil and Thandrin, then Lithidhren would be King. And a King who was a warrior was better than a King who was not. At least in the Greenwood, which was enjoying what Thranduil knew to be a mere respite in a centuries long siege. A siege that Sauron had begun partially due to a deception perpetrated by Thranduil himself, but that was a different story. 

It was not long after Lithidhren began his army training and Eryntheliel her military bird training project that both twins died, along with Minaethiel and some dozen other members of Thranduil's close kith and kindred. So they would be frozen forever in his mind at that age, not even a full two hundred years old. 

Lithidhren, whose name meant the wise ash tree, seemed likely to Thranduil to make the transition between mere scholarliness into proper wisdom, given time. Despite being a reluctant soldier, he was turning into a very dutiful one. Thranduil had been proud of him, for that. But when he thought of Lithidhren, what he remembered most was the smell of ink and parchment by candle light, and a shy welcoming smile and a happy twinkle to Lithidhren’s blue eyes when Thranduil had interrupted his middle son’s studies to enjoy the pleasure of Lithidhren’s company.

Eryntheliel . . . whose name meant daughter dedicated to the forest, to Thranduil would always recall the sound of wild birds in free flight. The shh-ing of soft feathers winging joyfully over leaves tossing like waves before the wind. The call of happy wild birds as they flew from one perch to another. He could remember so many walks with her . . . the delight on her face when they stood on the shore of the Long Lake during a visit to Dale, and watched a flock of geese near a thousand strong take off from the surface of the lake into the dawn hush. Eryntheliel was Thranduil’s wildest child, not his most disobedient or mischievous, but the one closest to nature, to the creatures of the woods. 

Chapter 5: 

Legolas, the Baby, the Surprise, Born with Sails in his Eyes 

A/N: My backstory for Legolas is not canon-consistent, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope that you will enjoy reading it! 

Quote: 

“[Only Men] should have a virtue to shape their life, amid the powers and chances of the world, beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else…” -The Silmarillion, “Of the Beginning of Days”

 

By the time the twins were young adults, Greenwood’s Army had reclaimed more of the forest than they had held in the last thousand years. Thranduil, Minaethiel, and their kin, and their captains and other advisors found themselves occupied with trying to find elves to administer and patrol that much of the forest, as well as deal with whatever other problems arose. It was during that busy time that Thranduil and Minaethiel were surprised to learn that they were expecting another elfling. Legolas, who was born with sails in his eyes.

Legolas was young, compared to his kin and his fellow elves of the Greenwood. The Watchful Peace ended less than twenty years after he was born, and few elves would have children in the tumultuous and dangerous centuries that followed. So Legolas was amongst the very youngest elves on Middle Earth, until after the end of the Ring War. 

But Legolas was also wise. Though none in his family had traveled back from the undying lands, going back many generations, Legolas was somehow born with the light of Valinor in his eyes. Minaethiel knew his path would be different, from the first, and so she insisted to the doubting Thranduil.

Legolas was blond like his father, but his hair was the color of gilded cornsilk, rather than the brighter gold of his Adar and next oldest siblings. Depending on the light, Legolas' hair could appear a pale blond, almost white, not unlike his lost cousin Belemir Elrondion's silver-blond tresses. Or Legolas' hair could appear almost as dark as the same wheat-gold shade of Thranduil's, or any shade in between. Legolas himself was slender, almost delicate, again reminding Thranduil of lost Belemir, from a very young age.

Legolas, their baby, was a loving but both precocious and quietly manipulative elfling. “Laes” was the Sindarin word for baby, but in Thranduil’s family it was “Las,” for “Legolas,” instead. Tithen-Las, ion-Las, muindor-Las. But despite being the youngest and the baby, Legolas was determined to be viewed as mature enough to be a companion to his elder sibs and family members, and was not above subterfuge, eavesdropping, and covert research and propaganda campaigns, in order to get his way. But then his mother and his siblings died, when Legolas was only 21 years old, or seven years old in human years. And poor Legolas was, in many ways, never an elfling again.

Thranduil had never planned to be a parent without Minaethiel, and he knew that he'd made mistakes. He had tried to be there for Legolas, who was so young when they lost his mother. He had tried to give of his whole heart to Legolas, but Thranduil had not been heart-whole himself when Legolas was small, and there were times when he knew that he had failed his youngest son. Thranduil had also been extremely busy defending the Wood as the respite of the Watchful Peace ended, which Legolas had taken exceptional and appalling advantage of at times. 

Poor Thalion as well hadn’t been heart-whole during Legolas’ elflinghood, after his mother’s and other siblings’ deaths. Thalion and Thranduil had both relied upon the help of other family and friends in dealing with Legolas’ early grief. It had been Mistress Ivoniel and Healer Theli who had coaxed elfling Legolas into eating again after his mother’s death. And it had been the then-injured Theli, and Fileg’s younger children Brasseniel and Cenedru, who had spent time entertaining the lonely Legolas. 

But then Thranduil had quarreled with his cousin Celeborn regarding the deployment of the Greenwood’s Army. Fileg and Theli had taken Celeborn’s side, and Thranduil had exiled them to Lothlorien until they thought better of such opinions. Brasseniel and Cenedru went to Lothlorien with their father, and Legolas was even more lonely. 

Thalion loved his youngest brother, but he didn’t really understand him. He did spend hour upon hour teaching the elfling Legolas to fletch arrows and shoot them, and how to fall properly and fight bare handed and with a staff. Mourning himself, and an ellon of few words, Thalion hadn’t been able to figure out how to actually talk to Legolas about his feelings. But he had given his baby brother as much of his time as he could. Thalion would take Legolas on long camping trips, sometimes, as he had with Thandrin and the twins, and teach Legolas of tracking, and how to light a fire with wet wood, and other things that an elfling born to the Wood should know. 

But there were times when Thalion could not spend time with Legolas, even if he had planned to, because Legolas reminded him so much of his own losses. During some of those instances, specifically the times when Legolas’ most observant cousins were away, Legolas took the opportunity to go off on long solo jaunts through the Wood. He made human friends in the isolated villages along the Forest River during the times when he was supposed to have been camping with Thalion and Thalion’s friends. No one was the wiser, not for many years, because Thalion didn’t like to talk about the times that he couldn’t bear to have his youngest brother’s company on his trips. Thalion expected Legolas to go himself and report that he’d been left behind. And Legolas . . . well, Legolas found other uses for his time. And so Thranduil’s youngest son’s many friendships with humans first began. 

As Legolas grew into a promising adolescent, he began to assist his father in various royal duties. Even more so than Thandrin had, because when Legolas was growing up, there were fewer elves left to perform those duties. Legolas was permitted to begin his Army training just shy of his majority, and quickly established himself as a brilliant archer. He was a quietly observant and (mostly) dutiful soldier despite a certain recklessly heroic streak. He rose relatively quickly through the ranks, despite needing to take time away from soldiering for his duties as crown prince. Including a particularly long leave, when Thranduil was badly injured by dragon fire, and Legolas had to serve as his father’s regent for several decades. 

Despite Legolas going behind Thranduil’s back to redeploy Thranduil’s army in preparation for what came to be known as the Battle of the Five Armies, Thranduil appointed Legolas to a temporary captainship during that conflict, and Legolas served well. Thranduil and Legolas came to work together very smoothly, despite Legolas’ relative youth, in their respective roles as King and Crown Prince. 

Thalion, on the other hand, found it difficult to relate to his youngest brother without criticizing him. It wasn’t that Thalion didn’t love Legolas, or that he wasn’t proud of him. It was that, having lost his mother and three siblings to an attack by orcs and spiders, Thalion was afraid for Legolas. 

And Legolas was fearless. He once jumped off of a cliff to rescue two human boys from bandits. He went into Laketown to track orcs with but a dozen companions, after being told to leave those orcs alone, and ended up almost fighting a dragon. Legolas’ natural proclivity towards reckless heroism was not good for Thalion’s peace of mind, and Thalion was not diplomatic about his disapproval. Legolas, for his part, had trouble seeing the care behind Thalion’s criticism, and so a rift formed between the two brothers which went largely unnoticed by their father. 

It was not that Thranduil never noticed Legolas’ mistakes, or never took him to task for them. He disciplined his youngest son when discipline had been earned, and did his best to instill care in his only living heir. But Thranduil was too often merely relieved and happy that Legolas had lived past his latest adventure to be as firm with him as he might otherwise have been. 

And should Legolas return from this harebrained Quest, that would likely be the case again! And such was not a sure thing at all. Thranduil feared greatly for his youngest son, for the son Thranduil had raised to his majority without Minaethiel, without Thandrin and the twins. 

Legolas, who had been born with sails in his eyes. Legolas, who smiled through his sorrow, and who never lost heart. Legolas was the bright whirlwind of the Greenwood, and still mostly defied his father's ability to describe him. If anything, Legolas was a bright smile, one so powerful that it was not only seen but felt, lingering between them just before Legolas took a leap of faith into the unknown, where Thranduil could not always follow.  
As Legolas had leaped again just now, following his gwador Aragorn, the long-son of Thranduil's human friend Valandil, into a desperate fight for the future of Middle Earth. Thranduil prayed desperately that these would not be his last memories of Legolas. That these images would not become Legolas, frozen in time in Thranduil’s memory, because Thranduil would never again see him on Middle Earth. 

Chapter 6: 

Epilogue 

Late T.A. 3018 or early T.A. 3019, King’s Apartments in the North Hall (the Hall of the Elven King) 

All those thoughts played through Thranduil’s mind as he sat in his rooms and tried to ignore his well-meaning company. It was Sixth day, and Sixth day was when he normally hosted an informal dinner and council meeting for his family and close advisors. That assembly this day had focused on what could be done to strengthen security and prepare for an armed expedition southwards toward Dol Guldur. 

Thranduil appreciated the contributions and willingness to help of his family and friends, and their support. However, if it were up to him, he would have preferred tonight just the company of his closest friends. But it wasn’t entirely up to him. He was a King, and his family and friends loved Legolas, too. It was important to them to be together, so together they would be. 

By ostensibly playing chess with his cousin Fileg, Thranduil did manage to avoid actively paying attention to most of his guests. Fileg was winning, which was unusual, and pride actually prompted a few moments of attention here or there from the King. 

The chief royal healer, Nestorion, appeared by Thranduil’s elbow at odd times, and didn’t leave until Thranduil ate or drank something. Eventually, Theli, a younger royal healer and an erstwhile friend of Thranduil’s, coaxed Nestorion into leaving Thranduil alone long enough to eat something himself, and to talk to Thranduil’s young cousin Alagossiel, the next youngest cousin after Legolas, about what she should do next in her training as a healer. 

Thranduil waved Theli over to his side, noticing with a slight pang of guilt that the right side of the healer’s ash-blond head was still faintly blue, even five days later. 

“And here I thought that you’d had enough of being fussed over by healers, Thranduil,” Theli teased, with surprise in his dark blue eyes as he obeyed the royal summons. 

“I have,” Thranduil conceded, “But I wanted to apologize to you, for . . . you know.” Thranduil gestured towards his friend’s blue locks of hair. 

“Oh, that?” Theli replied, with a casual shrug, “You needn’t. Honestly, Thranduil, I have a much bigger headache from Lady Galadriel yelling in my head then from your ink pot hitting me.” 

The King’s huff of a chuckle at that was enough to encourage Theli to keep talking, “You shouldn’t blame Legolas too much for this, I don’t think,” the healer urged, “This might have been one of those times when Legolas had to take action, was fated to, or what have you. Or was fated to do what he felt moved to do, and this was it.” 

Thranduil was annoyed by the heedlessness of that remark at first. He was about to snap back at Theli to mind his own business, until he remembered an incident from Legolas' early elflinghood, when they had still been a whole family. 

Palace of the Elven King in Emyn Duir, Near the End of the Watchful Peace 

From Legolas’ earliest infancy, Thranduil’s wife Minaethiel had been concerned by how tenuously her youngest elfling seemed connected to what was going on about him at certain times. 

“Do you see, Thranduil? There he is, losing track of the game Thandrin is playing with him to commune with the trees,” the Queen fretted. 

Thranduil had not been as worried as his wife, but then he had not been there when Legolas was born, to see the sails in his infant son's eyes.

And anyway, in a marriage one shares one partner's worries. Even when one is sure that one's beautiful wife's fears are excessive. So Thranduil sent for Galadriel and Celeborn, when Legolas was about the equivalent of a human three-year old human boy, even though Thranduil personally thought it an unnecessary precaution.

Galadriel said little, but told them to summon Elrond, and to ask him to bring Glorfindel, and Elrond and Celebrian’s older daughter, sunny Andreth.

Thranduil had been surprised at the mention of Andreth. He was fond of Elrond's golden-haired daughter, as he was fond of Arwen who had come with Galadriel. But Thranduil had thought that Andreth, who was happily married to Minaethiel's favorite minstrel and Thalion's cousin, Gelmir Laurelinde, was the least likely of Elrond's children to see the future. Arwen had remained behind when Galadriel returned to Lothlorien, and she had tried to explain to Thranduil and Minaethiel why her grandmother had asked for Andreth in particular. 

“Andreth doesn't predict the future,” Arwen said thoughtfully, “but she can reach out and change it. Not on purpose, normally. Or at least we don’t think that she realizes that she's doing it. But we're fairly sure that she can. And sometimes, she feels a resonance, or something like that, even when there's not enough for Adar or Daernaneth to go on, in making a prediction.” 

Thranduil and Minaethiel had found that mildly alarming. Although not, as Minaethiel pointed out, as alarming as the notion of Elrohir and Elladan being able to reach out and change the future! 

Still, that explanation from Arwen prompted Minaethiel, who had once been one of Galadriel’s handmaidens, to ask, “Hasn't your Daernaneth Galadriel trained Andreth?” 

“It's not something that can be trained, Daernaneth says,” Arwen replied, “She's taught Andreth some meditation skills, and self-control and caution with respect to when she makes wishes for the future, just as a matter of good sense. But . . . to train a power, that power has to be manifest. And Andreth's gifts, Daernana and Ada say, are like an ocean under ice. Potent and powerful, but no one can reach them except sometimes Andreth herself, and even she can't do it on command.” 

Elrond came, with his family in tow except for his and Celebrian’s twin sons, who were serving as their regents in Imladris. 

“I’m very fond of Elrohir and Elladan,” Thranduil and Minaethiel’s foster-son Thalion had commented, “But are you sure it is wise to have them act as your regents, cousin Elrond?” 

“Our scholars of Imladris can become so set in their ways,” Celebrian had remarked, with smile and a toss of her rose-crowned silver hair, “Letting the twins have free reign for a while usually counteracts that tendency quite nicely.” 

“We never know what will happen,” Elrond said, his gray eyes gleaming with affection and amusement, “Sometimes we return home, and everyone has a complaint about how the twins made them do someone else's job for a week. Sometimes we get back, and they've revised the planting schedule for the next decade to try a different series of crop rotations. Sometimes we’ll arrive to find that they’ve reorganized all of the offices and administrative schedules, usually with some increased efficiencies. And sometimes they've just moved everything out of Glorfindel's office, and installed a mother duck and her ducklings there, ostensibly because Glorfindel's office gets the best morning sunlight.” 

For some reason, that last did not surprise Thranduil at all. In fact, he rather wished that he’d been there to see Glorfindel’s face at the time. Especially since Thranduil knew one of Glorfindel’s secrets, which was that the Balrog Slayer had a soft spot for children and animals, and would never have evicted a mother duck and her fuzzy ducklings. 

That day Thranduil and Minaethiel waited until their own children, and Elrond’s daughters, as well as Andreth’s husband Gelmir, were busy at play in the gardens to ask Elrond and Glorfindel about Andreth’s unpredictable gifts. 

Elrond paled slightly as he explained, “Naneth Galadriel says that it would take thousands upon thousands of years, or a crisis so profound that it threatened Andreth's very sanity, in order to make it possible for her to access her powers at will, rather than unconsciously, as she does from time to time. But why did do you ask?”

“Your inscrutable mother-by-law said that we should,” Thranduil said, trying to keep a firm hold on his patience, “When what we’d actually asked Galadriel about was Minaethiel’s concerns about Legolas being born with something akin to the sea-longing.” 

Glorfindel beside his lord, meanwhile, had turned his razor-sharp attention to Legolas, who was climbing a tree with remarkably little assistance from his elder brother Thandrin, and to Elrond’s daughter Andreth sitting beneath the tree with her husband Gelmir, who was still recovering from an ankle sprained while on a hunt. 

“Your Legolas is the most graceful elfling for his years that I've ever seen, on either side of the sundering sea,” Glorfindel commented thoughtfully. 

Elrond’s eyes misted over and his expression changed from mild concern into the absent focus of a Seer, as he mused, “Born with the light of prophecy in his eyes . . . he is a child out of time and place . . .” 

Thranduil started to ask what in Orome’s name that even meant, but his wife hushed him. 

Minaethiel waited until Elrond was clearly done speaking to ask him softly, “But what does that mean, Elrond? Cousin Galadriel said something similar, but would not explain further.” 

“And that's when I invited her to stop talking about it,” Thranduil said, with wry impatience. Legolas was an elfling; let him be an elfling. That was Thranduil’s perspective on the matter. 

Elrond smiled, his eyes sparkling with gentle, wry amusement as he asked, “Oh, was that when, Thranduil-nin?” 

Thranduil rolled his eyes at his irritating cousin. 

The peredhel chuckled again, then continued more seriously, “I apologize for my imprecision in such an important and delicate matter, Thrani, Mina. I am sorry, but it is hard to say, what exactly my vision means. It is just that Legolas was not predicted, here and now. Nor does he truly seem . . . fixed, in this time and place. Maybe he was not, in any original plan, meant to have been yours,” Elrond paused, and his expression turned sorrowful, “maybe he was meant to have been one of my own younger siblings, or a cousin of mine, the child of one of my twin uncles. Maybe he was meant to have been the child of one of your children. Whatever the case, I believe that he was meant to have been born in another place and time, but ended up here, as your son.” 

“He IS our son,” Thranduil said, bristling, “He is fixed in our hearts. That is all that matters.” 

Glorfindel exchanged a look with Elrond, then shook his golden head. Thranduil knew from past conversations with the two elves that Elrond could talk about such matters as prophecy, and the plans of great powers, because at their heart Elrond’s guesses were just that – guesses. Glorfindel perhaps knew more, but was not always permitted to speak of it. 

“The Enemy isn't the only one who can cheat,” Elrond said at last, “the Valar do it more subtly, but they do intervene, sometimes.” 

Andreth, who had joined them with her husband Gelmir just in time to hear her father’s last statement, commented with a glance towards Glorfindel, “Like allowing that an elf who has been reborn may journey to Middle Earth.” 

“So,” Thranduil drawled, “Your belief is that our Legolas is grow up to slay a balrog? Or to babysit Elrond for an age and a half?” 

“Ha, ha,” Elrond complained lightly. 

With a sunny, reassuring laugh, Andreth said, “Not necessarily. To me, it seems more that your baby elfling is an unexpected note, a wild card.” 

“In what game?” asked Minaethiel intently. 

“I don’t know, Mina. I wish I did,” Andreth replied, “I do know that the Enemy can make moves that the Valar cannot easily counter, and that we may not even see for yeni. The Valar cannot undo these actions, but they can...counteract.” 

“It's like in a ballad,” Andreth’s husband Gelmir explained, “The wicked witch curses the baby princess to die, but the last fairy changes that wish into sleep for a thousand years.” 

“Or,” said Andreth as she helped her limping husband to sit down beside Minaethiel, “a prophecy is made that a wicked witch will become the princess's stepmother, and so the Valar grant the Princess a magic comb that becomes a mountain range to confuse pursuit, so that she may escape.” 

Theli, attracted to both a story and a patient like a cat to cream, knelt down to examine Gelmir’s ankle as he enthusiastically theorized, “Or, it is written that the King will go mad, his oldest two sons die, and the youngest be an exile with no hope of return. Only the Valar send the youngest son a magic cat, to help him reason through the impossible, and return his father to sense.” 

Thranduil swatted at Theli's braids lightly, unimpressed at being likened to a mad King with dead sons, but also reluctantly amused. 

“So,” the King asked Elrond with some sarcasm, “you think that my son is to be a magic comb, or a magic cat?” 

It was Andreth who answered, “We don’t know, Thranduil. Being an unpredicted element, Legolas is not only unlooked-for, but also inherently unpredictable. We all have free will, but most of us are foreseen, which fixes us into a part of the song, melody or harmony or crescendo, and it’s hard to move the note to counterpoint. Legolas was not predicted. He can be what he wills. He is outside the plan, a new part of the song. The Enemy cannot see what he may become, and neither can we, at least not yet.” 

“There may come a time, Mina, Thrani,” Elrond explained solemnly, “when Legolas will say to you, ‘I must do this,’ and you must let him. Or else we may lose the advantage the Valar essentially cheated to give us.” 

“Wonderful. How very helpful,” Thranduil said sardonically. 

“It is never easy to raise children who are instruments of prophecy,” Elrond told them, with the very gentlest of sympathy. 

“Nor to be the prophet, I imagine,” Minaethiel replied in kind. She didn’t say so, because she wouldn’t, to Elrond, but Thranduil knew that she was thinking of how lucky she and he were, not to have children who might choose to marry a human, and be so soon after lost to their parents for all of time. 

“And I am relieved,” Minaethiel continued, “that you do not think it is the sea-longing.” 

“It is not the sea-longing,” Elrond assured her, “That presents in an entirely different manner.” 

And then Thranduil gave himself a great deal of credit for not telling his wife ‘I told you so.’ 

Late T.A. 3018 or early T.A. 3019, King’s Apartments in the North Hall (the Hall of the Elven King) 

 

Referencing that long-ago day, Theli again made the point, “Maybe this is that time. Or one of those times, I mean. When what Legolas thinks he has to do doesn’t make sense, but he has to do it anyway.” 

“Ecthelion may have something there, my elfling,” Herdir remarked to Thranduil, having been attracted by their discussion, “Elrond's letter which arrived this morning- well, what I could read of it after you'd crumpled it and thrown it into the fire, from whence I rescued it - did mention that Mithrandir thought it important, this friendship between the hobbits, and between Legolas and Estel. I mean, Lord Aragorn.”

Thranduil grumbled to himself at the thought of that letter. 

“Three is a powerful number,” Theli said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, it is, Ecthelion. What of it?” Herdir asked, his hand still resting reassuringly on his young King’s shoulder. 

Most of the other elves in the room were equally baffled, but Thranduil had followed the healer’s chain of thought quite easily. 

“So,” Thranduil expanded, “Once, by jumping off a cliff to save the boy Brand, an ancestor of Bard’s. When you went with him, as I recall, Ecthelion.” 

Fileg began to nod as well, “Bard, who slew Smaug.” 

“Twice,” Theli said, “By insisting that we go into Laketown that night, where we saved Bain, the son of Bard, who was the one who brought the dragon-slaying arrow to Bard.”

“And now, you think, by going with the ringbearer, and helping him to complete his mission?” Herdir asked. 

Theli nodded. Thranduil squeezed Theli's shoulder in thanks, then went to stare out a window while he organized his thoughts.

After a few moments, the King turned to face his friends and family as he remarked with dark humor, "Well, one could hardly blame the Enemy for failing to predict the importance of a hobbit, and his heir. A wildcard, indeed. Perhaps the daft Ithron and my cousin Elrond are correct. Where strength of arms has failed, perhaps friendship and folly may succeed."

“To friends,” said Rochendil, raising his glass of wine, “and to folly in friendship's name.” 

“To our Legolas,” said Thranduil’s cousin Lothgail, raising her mug of tea. 

“Yes, to Legolas,” agreed Herdir, gently pressing a goblet into his King’s hands, “in hopes that the star which must have looked after his father during all of Thranduil's youthful misadventures, may safeguard our Greenwood's precious wind-blown Leaf and guide his mission, and bring him safely home.”

**Author's Note:**

> End Note:  
> Other stories in my AU about Thranduil’s children include:  
> “Every Child Needs a . . .” chapter 11 of “Tales of the Greenwood,” available here:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/232498/chapters/1426345
> 
> and: 
> 
> “Winter’s Whispering Wings on a Golden Autumn Eve” chapter 12 of “Tales of the Greenwood, available here:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/232498/chapters/2044262


End file.
